


in the days before the damage

by transangelic



Category: The Magnus Archives (Podcast)
Genre: Cuddling & Snuggling, Fluff, M/M, Martin POV, No beta we kayak like Tim, Set in Episodes 159-160 | Scottish Safehouse Period (The Magnus Archives), The Lonely - Freeform, Trans Martin Blackwood, its only mentioned like once but. ofc, oh my god they were anchors, welcome to nightvale - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-15
Updated: 2020-08-15
Packaged: 2021-03-05 22:36:15
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,491
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25912966
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/transangelic/pseuds/transangelic
Summary: He remembered the freezing chill of the Lonely, the way Jon’s hands felt, warm and giving, around his waist as he pulled him out. The drive there was hazy as well, that the driving didn't require much focus as the hills seemed abandoned for almost miles, the dim headlights of the car seemingly the only source of light.And now, they had arrived.basically, martin and jon arrive at the safehouse and listen to some wtnv and cuddle bc they deserve it
Relationships: Martin Blackwood & Jonathan "Jon" Sims | The Archivist, Martin Blackwood/Jonathan "Jon" Sims | The Archivist
Comments: 6
Kudos: 62





	in the days before the damage

**Author's Note:**

> title is from white worms by ajj!  
> i love nightvale and tma so. once again i make a crossover of the two! its like 3am so sorry for any mistakes uhh

It was late when they first arrived at Daisy’s safe house. Martin could remember Basira discreetly handing them the keys to the house and some broken down car her or Daisy had stowed away, and sent them on their way. Everything before and after that was pretty much blurry. 

He remembered the freezing chill of the Lonely, the way Jon’s hands felt, warm and giving, around his waist as he pulled him out. The drive there was hazy as well, that the driving didn't require much focus as the hills seemed abandoned for almost miles, the dim headlights of the car seemingly the only source of light. 

And now, they had arrived. The safe house wasn’t much, just a small shed, really. But the prospect of being somewhere,  _ alone,  _ with Jon simultaneously terrified and excited Martin. Jon stumbled out of the passenger seat beside him, and as they walked to their temporary home their shoes crunched in the rough gravel beneath them. 

“Well. I don’t really know what I was expecting, but I guess it’ll do.” Jon said thoughtfully as he walked up to Martin. And Martin just stared, in awe of the man in front of him. He had gone into the goddamn  _ Lonely  _ for him. And survived. And now they were together, and Martin didn't know what to say. 

He decided to give Jon a small, hopefully reassuring smile and walk towards the door. They didn’t have much in the way of clothes or belongings to speak of, besides a box of Jon’s favorite tea Martin had unthinkingly grabbed on their way out, and whatever they were wearing that day. 

Jon followed behind him into the house. It was lackluster, but that was expected. Couldn’t do much killing from a coffin, Martin guessed. Plus, he couldn’t exactly picture Daisy picking out her favorite rugs or throw pillows at the local shops. He awkwardly set down the keys, his dying phone and the crumpled box of tea in the area he guessed was the kitchen, and looked over at Jon. 

He looked tired, but if he was being honest, Jon always looked tired. It was one of the first things that made Martin like him, the perpetual sleep-mussed, hazy eyed state he always seemed to be in. His long hair was hanging messily around his face, grey hairs glinting like a halo around him in the muddled light of the main room. He looked beautiful. He always looked beautiful. Martin realized he was staring and chose to try to diffuse their situation at hand by stretching his arms, and mumbling about how tired he was. 

As he brought his arms back down, he remembered two things: one, that he really _ , really  _ needs to take off his binder and two, he has no idea how many beds there were in this shed of a house. 

He and Jon had slept in the same bed a few times during the Prentiss attack, so he reasoned it wouldn't be that bad. He followed Jon’s eyeline into the hallway, and walked in. 

★☆★☆★☆★☆★☆★☆★☆★☆★☆

He and Jon had gotten ready for bed the best they could, using some packaged toothbrushes they found stowed away and some probably expired toothpaste, if toothpaste can expire. He got his binder off while Jon changed into some too-big shirt Daisy had left, and could finally breathe again. 

The grip of the Lonely came in waves, it seemed. His skin kept returning to a normal temperature only to become freezing cold, his roots quickly growing pure white and then suddenly returning to their usual light brown. It was...like he was glitching, almost. He needed Jon near him, he thought. An anchor, like Jon had said. It was almost achingly romantic to Martin, the thought of Jon being that for him. His tie to humanity, keeping him warm, keeping him safe. His heart swelled at the thought as he walked into what was now, technically, their bedroom. 

Jon was lying awake, face twisted up in annoyance. He turned towards Martin as the dusty floorboards creaked under his weight. His mouth twitched up in a slight smile as Martin awkwardly laid down upon the bed, keeping a safe distance between him and Jon, despite the amount of  _ want  _ pulling his body into two halves. One still in the Lonely, screaming at him to  _ stay away  _ and to  _ isolate,  _ and that  _ you don’t need him _ . The other thinking of Jon’s arms around him, the warmth of his body thawing Martin out. 

“I can’t sleep.” Jon mumbles, his head shoved into a daintily stitched throw pillow. Huh, maybe Daisy did have some other hobbies when she stayed here, Martin thinks. He stares down at Jon, and Jon keeps looking back at him. His gaze has always been…piercing, he thinks, if he had to use one word to describe it. There are so many other words he wants to say to him. 

“Uh... Do you want to try listening to a podcast or something? I used to do that sometimes when I stayed in the archives?’ His voice goes up in question, despite not asking anything. He tries not to think about how those are practically the first words he’s said since they arrived. Jon ponders the suggestion, stretching, making his shirt ride up and expose the warm brown skin of his stomach. Martin, unlike a blushing Victorian man who just saw his beloved’s ankles, averts his eyes and keeps his focus on a particularly interesting scratch in the worn wallpaper of the room. 

“I- I guess it couldn’t hurt.” Jon says decidedly, throwing Martin out of his haze. He thinks about what Jon could possibly want to listen to, and decides on Welcome to Nightvale. Even if Jon doesn't like the actual story, Martin always found Cecil’s voice calming, which will hopefully help Jon fall asleep. 

“I know a good one!” Martin smiles. “Its- Its this fictional radio show thing, where this man named Cecil, the radio host, reports different strange events in his town, Nightvale. It’s called ‘Welcome to Nightvale’ by the way.” he motions a sign with his hands for extra emphasis. “I really like it! I haven’t listened in a while though, so we can just start at the beginning. And, If you don't like it, I bet it’ll still help you fall asleep, or hopefully it will, I guess.”

Jon nods tiredly in agreement. Martin grabs his phone from the rickety bed side table, and quickly searches up the pilot on his phone. 

  
“Ok, here we go.” Martin says, mostly to himself, as he presses play on his phone. Hearing the familiar introduction music and the background lull of Cecil Palmer’s voice calms him significantly. He tries to get more comfortable while still trying very hard not to touch Jon, who seems a bit confused but interested nonetheless in the story. 

“Do not approach the dog park. The fence is electrified and highly dangerous. Try not to look at the dog park, and especially do not look for any period of time at the hooded figures. The dog park will not harm you.” Cecil says menacingly, and Martin smiles. Jon lets out an amused scoff beside him. 

He hopes the podcast is providing Jon as much of a positive distraction from  _ everything  _ as it is to himself. Jon does look significantly more relaxed, seemingly less tense, at least. His hair is splayed out beneath him on the pillow, and his body is turned to the side, towards Martin. In a bout of wishful thinking, combined with the amount of tiredness and once again,  _ everything  _ that had happened that day weighing his body down, he turns his body towards Jon. 

It makes for what looks to the outsider as some sort of spooning but with a half-foot of space between the two partners, but to Martin and Jon it provides a great deal of comfort. The knowledge that someone is with them through this, the closeness, the familiarity of each other in this new place.    
  


Jon wraps a bony arm around Martin’s waist sleepily, and Martin feels wholly  _ warm _ . He thinks of the steam of tea warming his face in the morning, the feeling of hot cocoa in your system after a walk in the winter, and none of it compares to this. He smiles despite himself and inches just a tiny bit closer to Jon. 

  
Cecil’s voice continues playing in the background, though Martin is unsure either of them are actually listening at this point. He knows this part, though. Martin hears the faint buzz of the rusty radiator Jon had turned on earlier as Cecil utters the words “He grinned, and everything about him was perfect, and I fell in love instantly.”  _ That’s what I thought when I first saw you,  _ he wants to say. His eyes flutter closed as he feels his own utter loneliness start to dissipate for the first time in what feels like years. 

**Author's Note:**

> kudos n comments are appreciated! thanks for reading :)


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